Reason: Meaning and Understanding
This is a light AI paraphrase of my current thoughts on the topic of language, meaning and understanding. This is something I return to time and again, since this represents the foundations of reason.
1. Thought Is Not Language
There are traditions in intellectual circles that equate thought with language, but this conflation is mistaken. Thought comes before language. Language is unable to arise without preexisting thought; it does not lead the process, it follows. Thought is what is grasped in conscious awareness—though not all of it is fully conscious. Once language is in place, it serves as a scaffold for further thought. It can stimulate additional thinking. It enables communication. It can be heard aloud, and it can also be heard inwardly, as inner speech. This is a profound mystery. There is a question of timing—how exactly thought and language are sequenced—and neurological complexities emerge immediately. On the subjective side, the inner domain, the problem remains deeply mysterious. On the objective side—neurology—it’s no less obscure. The best that has been achieved is the identification of some broad correlations. These are suggestive, but far from explanatory. A few neural structures have been implicated, but no solid understanding follows from that. That is more or less the extent of our current knowledge.
2. The Ambiguity of Meaning and Understanding
It’s worth looking closely at two terms often used almost interchangeably: meaning and understanding. One is often presented as if it had an objective basis; the other is more openly associated with interior, subjective experience. Yet both remain deeply obscure. The term “meaning” itself is highly ambiguous—polysemous—and its definition is not at all clear. In practical use, meaning can refer to text, to symbols, to spoken or recorded words—these being the externalized or material representations. Meanwhile, “understanding” tends to refer to the internal apprehension of these representations. So, while the external can be manipulated, the internal is of another order entirely. Still, “meaning” can straddle both domains. It sometimes stands in for understanding, albeit more abstractly—especially when associated with words or texts or other external symbolic forms. Yet many go even further and use the term “meaning” in non-linguistic ways, applying it broadly to things like life events or cosmic order. That use of the word, however, is likely a step too far. It’s not at all evident what such usage is supposed to signify.
3. Language Development and the Syntax–Semantics Interdependence
Language is a peculiar phenomenon. Most people acquire it with ease, but a small number do not—often due to congenital deafness, lack of exposure to reading or writing, or failure to learn a sign language. Such cases are rare. In fact, sign language tends to emerge even in environments without formal instruction. As for infants, they start out with neither comprehension nor production of language. Understanding tends to emerge earlier than speaking. At one level, the process seems simple, but at another level it remains mysterious. Developmental psychology has addressed this to some extent, though in my own study of the subject, I didn’t delve deeply into it. One distinction often made is between syntax and semantics, but that separation may be more academic than functional. In practice, semantics can’t operate without at least minimal syntax—though even single-word utterances can carry semantic weight. Conversely, syntax without semantics is meaningless. Understanding syntax requires understanding meaning. Attempts to treat them as independent fall apart under close scrutiny.
4. Grammar and Its Historical Constraints
Grammar, as conventionally taught, is shaped by a tradition influenced by classical Latin—or so it is commonly claimed. Regardless of the accuracy of that historical account, the categories presented in grammar—parts of speech like nouns, verbs, adverbs, prepositions, and so on—are used to segment language into functional roles. Some of these categories are highly abstract and operate at a structural level without representing specific worldly features. Take, for example, articles—they help disambiguate, but they don’t correspond to anything concrete. The categories assist in parsing language, but they don't neatly align with how the world is structured. Much of grammar is about classification—defining what kinds of words exist and where their boundaries lie. But those boundaries are not fixed; they’re fuzzy and often depend on context.
5. Polysemy and Fuzziness in Word Classifications
Beyond the grammatical categories themselves, individual words present further complexities. Words frequently carry more than one meaning—this is called polysemy. Some words stand in opposition to others—those are antonyms. Others share meaning—synonyms. Still others sound the same but differ in meaning. These are often called homophones or homographs; the umbrella term is sometimes given as homonyms, though the terminology can get messy and is the concern of specialists. The point is this: language is used every day, but its classifications are far from clear-cut. The borders around meanings are blurred. Still, people communicate. The imprecision doesn’t stop the effort, even if it complicates understanding.
6. Abstractness, Fiction, and the Metaphysical Mire
Everyone carries their own internal understandings of words. Despite this, communication generally works—especially when it concerns concrete objects or events. But as the subject matter grows more abstract, it becomes increasingly detached from specific experiences or observable referents. Eventually, one encounters ideas that are completely unanchored—ideas that have no connection to concrete phenomena. This detachment is often unnoticed. In some cases, it results in fictions. In others, it becomes deliberate misrepresentation—lies. The difference is usually intent. Still others push into metaphysics—language completely divorced from verifiability. This is what might be called the metaphysical mire: a place where lack of verifiability, absence of falsifiability, reification, circular reference, mistaken categories, and general incoherence reign. It becomes unclear whether such discourse has any meaning at all. Perhaps clearer phrasing could redeem some of these statements—make them more coherent or empirically testable—but often that clarity is lacking.
7. The False Boundary Between Human and Animal Language
There are linguists who assert that only humans possess language. This claim is implausible. Language, like any complex behavior, must have evolved, and its precursors must have existed in ancestral species. Proto-linguistic forms would have appeared long before modern humans. To suggest a clean line between animals and humans in this regard is indefensible. It’s a classic example of scholarly overreach—an artifact of intellectual insulation. The notion is not just implausible; it borders on the absurd.
8. Infant Thinking and the Limits of Chomskyan Syntax
Infants clearly think, even before they understand language. They do not comprehend or produce words in their earliest months, but that does not imply an absence of cognition. The developmental trajectory for language begins with comprehension, followed by production. While I studied infant development at one time, I did not focus much on language acquisition. I did read Chomsky's work on syntax and innate linguistic structures, but my view now is that his claims were largely misguided. His account lacked explanatory strength and relied too heavily on hand-waving.
9. Babble and Gesture in Early Language
In early language development, infants begin with babbling. They hear language and begin to mimic it through sound. At the same time, they often accompany this vocalization with gestures and facial expressions. Watching an infant in full babble mode—waving arms, raising eyebrows, producing sounds as if in a real conversation—is not just entertaining. It is revealing. It shows that the development of language is not limited to words; it is multimodal and deeply embodied. That fact carries significant implications.
10. Learning Language Without Instruction
It is often claimed that children do not require explicit instruction to acquire language—that they absorb it naturally. This seems plausible. Consider the example of deaf children who are not taught formal sign language but go on to develop their own gestural systems. This phenomenon, referred to as home signing, suggests that linguistic capacity does not depend on formal teaching. It appears to emerge spontaneously under the right conditions.
11. Feral Children and the Ethics of Experiment
Despite claims that language acquisition does not require instruction, it is also true that children generally grow up hearing language. If they were never exposed to speech, it is unclear whether they would develop language at all—though perhaps a sign system could emerge. But any attempt to test this through direct experimentation would be unethical. Natural experiments—such as those involving so-called feral children—are sometimes cited, but their credibility is doubtful. Most such cases seem to be myths or fabrications. Still, the question remains unresolved.
12. Parental Praise and the Bootstrap of Language
Parents typically express great excitement when a child speaks its first word. This is often met with praise, delight, and encouragement. Of course, this pattern may not hold in every household—some may be dysfunctional—but in ordinary cases it does. The child’s first word varies. It might be “mama” or “dada” or something unexpected, but it will reflect the child’s familiar environment. Language development then proceeds: from comprehension of words to utterance of single words, to phrases, to full sentences. Somewhere along the way, babbling gives rise to real vocabulary. What’s notable is that this progression seems largely self-organizing. Most words are not directly taught. Children appear to infer meanings through exposure—by seeing words in context. Adults learn new words the same way. This helps explain why everyone’s internal understanding of words is slightly different. These are not dictionary meanings—they’re shaped by personal experience.
13. Dictionaries as Self-Referential Networks
Dictionaries exist to define words. Each compiler brings a slightly different approach to this task—choosing particular phrasings or explanatory styles. But at bottom, all dictionaries operate by using words to define other words. This creates a vast network of interlocking definitions. The structure is recursive and self-referential. There are no ultimate primitives—no bedrock concepts that aren't defined in terms of others. Perhaps this is something network theorists could model, but it's a tangled mess—immensely complex and probably impossible to untangle fully.
14. Idiosyncrasy and Equivalent Expression
Although dictionaries represent a community’s best attempt to codify meanings, each individual carries a personal set of understandings—idiosyncratic and often divergent. It is common to learn that a word one has long used doesn’t align with the standard meaning. One of the fascinating properties of language is its plasticity: the same thought can be expressed in multiple ways, often yielding rough or exact semantic equivalence through different linguistic routes. I’ve said before—words are not thought, though thought is required to generate words. Sometimes, though, thought occurs before words can be found for it. I call that the inchoate state. It’s widely experienced, though rarely discussed. One says, “I’ve lost my train of thought,” or “Just give me a moment to think.” That gap—where the thought is present but unformed—is a real phenomenon. It’s not simply imagination or sensation or perception. It is a precursor to speech. And it is fragile. One might be preparing to speak, mentally juggling several points, only to forget one in an instant. That’s common—and more frequent with age. Yet the underlying process is always there: a continual, silent stream of tacit, pre-verbal cognition.
15. Tacit Learning and the Role of Intuition
As noted earlier, dictionaries form a network—and so does the internal, idiosyncratic system of meanings each person builds. How is this constructed? Children seem to form approximations of word meanings through some intuitive, implicit mechanism. Admittedly, this is a vague description—we don’t really know what it entails. But it clearly occurs. Until children are able to verbalize what they’ve learned, their internal processes remain opaque. Uncovering them takes ingenuity in experimental design. Regardless, explicit instruction is not the usual route. More often, meanings are inferred. That’s likely how language normally develops. Parents may help by naming objects or drawing attention to actions, but not all words refer to things or actions. Still, children learn how to use them correctly. They learn to perform—linguistically and cognitively. And crucially, this learning does not require formal teaching.
16. Evolutionary Continuity and the Myth of Uniqueness
Children acquire language by absorption—by inferring meaning tacitly. Most don’t need to be taught explicitly. But this capacity depends on a neural substrate, and that substrate is not unique to humans. It has evolved, like all biological traits. It almost certainly existed in primate ancestors, and likely in earlier mammals as well. Possibly even further down the evolutionary tree. In fact, there may be evolutionary convergence: some birds—parrots, for example—demonstrate primitive linguistic capabilities. And it’s important to reject the claim that noting similarities is an anthropomorphic fallacy. The real error is anthropo-denial—failing to recognize that humans are part of the broader animal lineage. We share much of our neural architecture and capacity with other species. Yes, humans have developed some distinctive traits—but so have many animals. Some do things humans can’t. So the idea of a vertical ladder of evolution is misguided. A tree is the more accurate metaphor.
17. Entanglement, Understanding, and the Hard Problem
We understand meanings by connecting them with other meanings. That’s how dictionaries work—every word is explained using others. Even in the mind, this holds true. Our comprehension of words is based on their relations within a web of associations. These links are often tacit, but they are real. That so many scholars have failed to grasp this is puzzling. Words are understood through their entanglement with other words, in a system that is recursive and self-referential. It’s complex. And while this doesn’t tell us what meaning is, it tells us something about how understanding happens. But that brings us into the deeper issue—consciousness itself. The “hard problem,” as Chalmers framed it. Understanding—especially linguistic understanding—is just one facet of that broader mystery. It presumes consciousness. Animals display behaviors suggesting understanding, and the pragmatic position is to assume many are conscious. This is supported by behavioral, neurological, and biochemical evidence. But where to draw the line—slugs, spiders, reptiles—is unclear. And we lack experimental tools to resolve the issue definitively. It becomes a metaphysical question unless or until we develop a way to verify or falsify claims of consciousness. But that might not be possible. Even among humans, solipsism—doubting other minds—remains logically unanswerable, though pragmatically rejected. The same applies to animals. Octopuses, for example, are strong candidates for consciousness. Still, it’s the same unsolved mystery. And if one thinks it’s not a mystery, then one likely hasn’t thought very deeply—or is simply wrong.